


the stars may shine but not as brightly as you

by aberysywyth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fun fact: I hate that I had to write that out!, M/M, Magic, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Minor Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Past Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Sirens, Witches, sighs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24694534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aberysywyth/pseuds/aberysywyth
Summary: Oikawa Tooru has been surrounded by magic all his life.As a witch himself, he’s been trained in magic since he was five, so it’s not unnatural for weird things to happen to him. After all, Oikawa has already been cursed, spelled up and down, written on in places a fourteen-year-old should not have been written on, and made potions, for God’s sake, like goddamn Harry Potter.Magic is tempermental. It is weird, and strange, and Oikawa is used to it, after being exposed to perhaps the oddest things magic has to offer.But nothing prepares Oikawa for the shock he feels as he watches a tattoo spread across his arm.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 13
Kudos: 76





	the stars may shine but not as brightly as you

**Author's Note:**

> alright. so I might have to do some explaining for this one so if it makes no sense tell me I will not be offended in any way.  
> also please note that I wrote this before I watched s4. i am now in love with shiratorizowa so i'm sorry ushiwaka it was a mistake  
> hope you enjoy!!
> 
> ps this is just the first chapter

The Beginning

Oikawa Tooru has been surrounded by magic all his life. 

As a witch himself, he’s been trained in magic since he was five, so it’s not unnatural for weird things to happen to him. After all, Oikawa has already been cursed, spelled up and down, written on in places a fourteen-year-old should _ not _ have been written on, and made potions, for God’s sake, like _ goddamn Harry Potter _ . 

Magic is tempermental. It is weird, and strange, and Oikawa is used to it, after being exposed to perhaps the oddest things magic has to offer.

But nothing prepares Oikawa for the shock he feels as he watches a tattoo spread across his arm. 

“There are three types of magical tattoos,” Sugawara had told him.

It was a lovely sunny day at the Suga-Sawa House, as Oikawa had fondly dubbed it. The three of them- Sugawara, Daichi, and Oikawa- had finished lunch and Suga, his business partner and perhaps the strongest light magician Oikawa knew, had watched as a bold, navy blue tattoo had drawn itself on his arm. 

Both Oikawa and Daichi startled. Suga had laughed at them, rubbing the new mark on his already densely covered skin. 

“It’s an intent tattoo,” he said, faintly amused, “it’s the most common of the three types I get. I’m surprised you don’t have some already, Tooru.” 

“I don’t take magical favors as payment,” Oikawa had murmured, prodding at the new blemish on Suga’s skin, “I have a promise tattoo, but it was mutual. I’ve never seen something like this.”

The design on his friend's skin was simple: three thin but dark bands that wrapped around his forearm. The deep navy lines seemed to almost glow faintly in the dim light of Daichi’s study and, as Oikawa peered at it, he almost felt the quiet resentment that radiated off of the marks. 

“What’s it doing?” He had asked. Daichi, who had already lost interest, left the room with an entertained look at the pair. 

“Well, it looks like one of Akaashi’s. I’d imagine he’s going to pass some task onto me that he doesn’t enjoy.” Oikawa had given him an incredulous look. “Intent tattoos can be simple, Tooru. They just have to have some magical motive behind them. And since you’re a witch, I’d imagine that you can feel the emotion behind it more keenly than most.”

“What about the third?” 

“Third what?” The tattoo had already started to fade a bit, dimming around the edges. It settled into a softer color that blended in more with the rest of Suga’s many other marks.

“The third type of tattoo, Suga-chan,” Oikawa had hummed.

“Ah. That one,” Suga chuckled, “they’re rare. I only have one.” Oikawa gestured in a sort of  _ get on with it _ way that only left Suga more amused.

“They’re called soul-siren tattoos. A horrible name, I know, but it’s powerful magic. Only one of the sirens can give one, and only a magic-user can receive one. They’re like intent tattoos, but stronger. I hardly even think of them though, they’re that rare.”

“Who’d you get yours from?” Suga gave him a knowing look, eyes flicking to Oikawa’s ankle, where the deep, swirling promise tattoo sat, faded.

“Ah,” Oikawa had said, “but that’s not-”

“You will know, Tooru, if you ever get one,” Suga began to trail out of the room, the taller man in tow. Oikawa let out a noise somewhere between a whine and a scoff, grabbing for Suga’s hand as they exited the study.

“But I doubt you ever will.”

The tattoo is gorgeous, Oikawa has to admit as much.

The marks have already stopped stinging, and Oikawa watches as it fades from a stunning, bright teal into a deep, cool brown. Thick, steady lines form a sun, he realizes, staring at it, perched on his right bicep. It’s almost dainty, despite the somewhat blocky lines, delicate in a way that seems to fit the soft color. And it isn’t massive, Oikawa notes gratefully, eyes flicking over the smooth lines.

Yes, it’s gorgeous, Oikawa has to admit. But the rush of emotions that accompany it, threaten to drown him, stop his admiration all together. 

God, there’s so much sorrow and pain radiating from it. Sadness fills his mind, his soul, and he truly couldn’t stop the tears that fall from his eyes if he wanted to. 

A sob spills out of his mouth and Oikawa had forgotten, really, that he is in public until a woman offers him a tissue with a sympathetic smile. He takes it, offering a tearful smile in return before he rushes into an alley nearby. 

Oikawa has to get home. And call Sugawara, because what the  _ hell _ is going on. 

He lets his magic overtake him, lets himself blend into the wind and air until nothing remains. Oikawa lands only a half-mile from his shop, he notes with a grimace, but that seems to be enough.

The mark on his skin explodes with light, brightening the clearing and sending a nearby flock of birds into the sky. 

_ A proximity tattoo,  _ a voice that sounds like Suga’s seems to say in his mind,  _ reacts based on distance to the giver.  _

Another sob threatens to spill out of his throat as Oikawa all but stumbles to his cottage, but he tampers it down, fingers clamping his right bicep as he nears the door. It isn’t until he reaches the wards that surround the property that he realizes something is wrong. 

If the alarm bells that ring through the wards that surround his house weren't enough, the blood that stains the door’s window is enough of a warning to stop Oikawa in his tracks. That, along with the overwhelming presence of whatever has broken in, has Oikawa’s hair rising up on its end. 

_ Koushi? _ He lets the message float on a gentle breeze that passes through the house, but receives no response. Either Suga is dead, or the  _ thing _ that is in Oikawa’s shop is not Suga. 

His staff appears quickly, forming grain by grain in the wind. He realizes, horrified, as the jeweled end of his staff glows gently, that it’s the exact color of his tattoo. It had not been that way yesterday.

_ So, you’re fucked,  _ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Daichi’s informs him cheerfully. Great.

Oikawa takes a step towards the cottage, tears streaming down his face. The tattoo lights up once more as he nudges the door open with his elbow, staff at the ready, but the wave of untapped power that hits him has Oikawa stopping, frozen. His staff clatters to the ground with a dull clack that resonates through the silence. 

There is a man on the floor, Oikawa realizes. He does not know this man. He hears someone, in the back of his mind, screaming, and it is not the man. 

Oikawa is screaming, he realizes, as the man looks up, pain in his magnificent brown eyes and grumbles:

“God, could you please be quiet?” And the emotions coursing through Oikawa go silent.

_ Oh,  _ something in the back of his mind clicks, his tattoo flickering in response, _ you are the one I’m looking for. _ Indeed, Oikawa can see the edge of an identical mark, in that same teal color, wrapping around his left bicep. 

He realizes, around the same time, that the man in front of him has been impaled, a clean shot straight through the man’s gut, and is bleeding out on Oikawa’s rug. Oikawa has to stop himself from retching as he runs to the man’s side and sees that it's a fire poker. 

“I’ll need your help getting it out,” the man says, sounding strangled. He tilts his head at Oikawa. He then, as if Tooru is the one bleeding out on the carpet, not him, places a warm hand on Oikawa’s shoulder. The noise Oikawa lets out is something between an incredulous scoff and a scream.

Oikawa isn’t really sure what to do, in this scenario. He’s tempted to just try and pull it out, then stop the wound, but the sheer agony that appears in the man’s eyes when he so much as touches the poker has Tooru hesitating. Magic it is, then. 

Oikawa lets the air around him fill his veins. As gently as possible, he grabs the poker. It dissolves into sand before his eyes. Unusually quickly, he notes. 

Dully, he registers that the man is gaping at him, but Tooru doesn’t care. Instead, he lets the power of water fill his veins, breathes in what now smells like seawater. The wound, as if it were never there, closes up, pushing out the excess sand. The man’s hand is still on Oikawa’s shoulder, and if Tooru concentrates hard enough, he can feel the gentle thrum of the man’s power beside his own, like an amplifier. 

Tooru rocks back into a sitting position, observing the man as he gathers himself. He is shorter than Oikawa, he realises, though the stunning presence on the man would suggest otherwise. His short, spiky hair is coated in blood, as are his clothes. His skin, or at least what Oikawa can see, is tan and freckled and covered in tattoos. 

The man peels off what is left of his jacket and Tooru recognises that the man is talking to him, but can’t hear him over the dull ringing in his ears. His heart beats rapidly at the sight of the gorgeous, teal swirls that coat his entire body. Not a tattoo, Oikawa realizes with a start, but the markings of a Siren. 

Their eyes connect, and, if only for a moment, Tooru feels something deep inside him awaken. The man goes to open his mouth but-

“I don’t work with Sirens,” Oikawa blurts out. The man smiles, tired, but devastatingly handsome. He has dimples, Tooru notices, as sorrow fills his whole body. Something about this feels  _ wrong _ , somehow, but Oikawa can’t put his finger on it.

“I know,” he says, and Tooru realizes that the sorrow he feels isn’t his, “I was hoping you’d make an exception.” 

Iwaizumi Hajime is his name, Oikawa learns, and he is approximately five seconds from passing out on Tooru’s bloodied carpet. 

And while he doesn’t work with Sirens, Tooru has no qualms about offering Iwaizumi his spare bed for the night, because he’s not an asshole, despite popular belief. He ends up half-carrying the shorter but heavier man to the room, stomach lurching at the feeling of Iwaizumi’s warmth against his side. 

Oikawa dumps him unceremoniously into the guest bed, and, grumbling to himself, forces Iwaizumi to at least change out of _your_ _bloody clothes,_ _Iwa-chan, for God’s sake._

He sleepily obliges Tooru, who tells him, “We’ll talk in the morning.” Iwaizumi is asleep before Oikawa can close the door. 

He gives himself five minutes, head pressed firmly against the cool wall, just five, before he goes to clean up. 

Tooru is honestly surprised at the lack of a mess in his living room. Besides the bloodied carpet (he spells clean), the bloodied floor (he swiffers resentfully), and the bloodied window (he windexs, grumbling about disrespect), there isn’t really anything else that holds a trace of Iwaizumi’s magical footprint. Which is odd, Oikawa thinks to himself. Because, theoretically, if he had just walked into Tooru’s house the wards on both the house and the property would’ve been completely shattered rather than set off. 

Which means he must have teleported in. Which is impossible. Or, at least, is almost definitely impossible. Though if Tsukishima Kei, the most powerful curse breaker in Japan can’t bypass Oikawa’s wards, he doubts a Siren of any power level can. 

He mulls it over as he sips a cup of tea, slumped onto his couch. Tooru debates calling Suga, but, in the end, decides this is a problem for Morning Oikawa. 

His eyes start to droop as he finishes his cup. Tooru doesn’t realize how exhausted he is until it hits him all at once. Not only do his limbs feel like lead, but he’s tired from the emotional strain that presses down behind his eyes. Tired from crying his eyes out. 

He sets his cup down, lays down on the couch, and, within seconds, falls into a dreamless sleep. 

Oikawa is surprisingly not the first one to wake up.

There is a blanket tossed around his body that he clutches as he tries to recall the events of the previous night. 

He can hear Iwaizumi banging around in the kitchen. Ah, Oikawa thinks, Iwaizumi Hajime. His name feels a little bit like the last piece of the puzzle fitting perfectly in place.

Oikawa rises, drained feeling still coursing through his body as he pads to the kitchen. Where Iwaizumi has made enough food for a small army. 

His eyes meet Oikawa’s as he steps into the kitchen. There is a little bit more than recognition behind them.

“You have some explaining to do, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, smiling at the answering scoff the Siren lets out. He hands Tooru a plate with a glare.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Tell me how you got in, then I’ll see what I can do,  _ Iwa-chan _ ,” Iwaizumi seems to falter a little bit at that, eyebrows furrowing. 

He hesitates, then says, “I’m honestly not sure how. I got stabbed, then I teleported. But it was almost as if I was drawn here. Like it knew who I needed.” He seems genuinely stumped, Oikawa notes with a grimace.

“And the wards? How did you bypass those?” He drawls.

“They let me in,” Iwaizumi answers simply, taking a massive bite of his eggs. Oikawa wrinkles his nose at the man. “It was like they recognised me.”

“That should be literally impossible. You know Tsukishima-san?” At Iwaizumi’s nod, Tooru continues. “He couldn’t break the wards. Not even Ushiwaka can get in, Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi’s shoulders stiffen slightly at the mention of the other Siren. 

“I’m assuming you’ve also had a bad experience with our lovely Waka-chan, then, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi scowls. “He was the one who shot a poker through my gut.” Oikawa’s blood runs cold. 

“Ushijima did that?” He asks, goosebumps rippling across his arms at Iwaizumi’s sharp nod. “Of course he did, the bastard. I shouldn’t expect better.” Tooru’s tries to keep the bitter note out of his voice. But judging by the searching look Iwaizumi gives him, it doesn’t work.

“What’d he do to you?” He asks quietly.

“He wanted me to be his mage. I didn’t. We got into a disagreement,” Oikawa folds his hands behind his head, closing his eyes, “and I was stabbed. By his lackey, Ten-chan, but still. It would seem that Ushiwaka has made a habit out of it.”

“That jackass doesn’t deserve a mage half as powerful as you.” Iwaizumi says, meeting Tooru’s gaze evenly. Oikawa is expecting a lot of things to come out of the Siren’s mouth, but that isn’t one of them. There is, again, a quiet  _ something _ that awakens in the back of his mind at the words, the spark in Iwaizumi’s eyes.

He forces his stunned expression to mold into a smirk. 

“Been keeping tabs on me, Iwa-chan?”

“Everyone knows about you, Oikawa.” Once again, Tooru is left stunned.

“Even one of the Sirens?”

Iwaizumi’s magnificent eyes meet Oikawa’s. He smiles. “Especially one of the Sirens.”

Oikawa can only watch as Iwaizumi rises, filling his plate for what is probably the third time. He registers, vaguely, that his food has gone cold, and his appetite has disappeared. 

“Is that what you’re here for?” Oikawa asks. “To recruit me as your mage?” Iwaizumi snorts, glancing at Oikawa's face.

“Of course not. I don’t need a mage.” He sits down, taking a bite. Leans back in his seat, eyes quietly contemplative. Maybe a little sad. 

“I need to kill Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

And Oikawa’s world dissolves around him.

_ Warm skin, coated in bright red tattoos. Dark, softly amused eyes.  _

_ “Will you do it, Tooru?” A deep voice asks him, quiet in the dim light of Oikawa’s room. A warm hand presses against his cheek, against the splatter of freckles there.  _

_ “Yes,” he breathes, a lie, but it doesn’t seem to matter.  _

_ There’s a soft sting on Tooru’s ankle and he gasps, pulling up the covers to reveal a swirl of red, taking form. Unfurling its wings, Oikawa realizes, quiet wonder in his eyes.  _

_ An olive gaze meets his own, small smile on his lips. A hand curls around Oikawa’s, a promise, and- _

“I need to kill Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

_ He leans forward, breath warm against Tooru’s face, eyes closing- _

“I  _ have _ to kill Ushijima Wakatoshi. I have to.”

Oikawa snaps awake, Iwaizumi’s voice ringing in his ears. It’s dark, in Oikawa’s room, and he gazes at the clock. Groans as the bright 3:52 blinks softly at him, unbothered by Tooru’s distress. 

Oikawa shakes off his too-warm covers. He grabs his phone, and he swore to himself that he wouldn’t call Sugawara…

“Hello? Tooru?”

“I think I’m soul-bonded to a Siren.” Oikawa tells Suga, pushing the doors of his balcony open. The night is cool, crisp in a way that helps Oikawa compartmentalize his emotions.

“Oh, Tooru, it's been so long, I doubt-”

“It’s not Wakatoshi, Suga.”

Startled silence greets him on the other side of the receiver. Tooru can practically hear the gears turning in the mage’s head.

“Who else would it be?” Suga asks, sounding alert. Oikawa leans against the railing, sigh on his lips. 

“Iwaizumi Hajime. He teleported through my wards. Said he had a  _ feeling _ , Suga-chan. Said the only reason he teleported to my house was because of a  _ feeling _ . He was impaled, for God’s sake, he was bleeding to death, and he teleported to me- after only hearing my name in passing. Why else would he unless we’re soul-bonded?”

Suga sounds stunned when he responds, “Iwaizumi Hajime? He was stabbed?”

“By Ushijima. It’s like everything in my life revolves around him, Kou-chan!” Oikawa’s laugh is bitter.

Silence envelops the pair, and Tooru lets the quiet chirp of the cicadas fill his ears. Without warning, his tattoo flares, a soft burst of sadness before dissipating. 

“I-I don’t know, Tooru,” Suga responds, what feels like minutes later, “I genuinely don’t know. I can ask Akaashi, he’s bonded to a Siren, but,” he hesitates, and Oikawa can hear him sigh through the phone, “have you considered asking him?”

“I didn’t really have time to. He was too busy telling me about needing to kill Ushijima.”

Suga coughs, startled, and Oikawa would be tempted to laugh if he didn’t feel so shitty. 

“Okay, what? Why?”

“He didn’t tell me why. Said he couldn’t tell me until I agreed to help him. As if I, of all people, would go snitch to Ushiwaka, Kou-chan.” He huffs, indignant. 

“Are you going to take up Iwaizumi’s offer?” Oikawa frowns, humming softly.

“I’m not sure, Kou-chan. I might hate Ushijima, but murder? I don’t know if I’m willing to do that.”

“I’ve met Iwaizumi before,” Suga responds quietly, “he doesn’t take magic lightly. I don’t think he’d consider something that dire unless he has a solid reason.”

“Are you suggesting I do it?” The mage scoffs gently.

“Of course not. I say you get to know him. Find out for yourself if his reasons are enough.”

Oikawa runs his hand through his hair with a groan. God, he hates when Suga is right. It always leads to the most painful option.

“I hope you’re right, Kou-chan. I’ll talk to him.” 

Tooru can practically hear Suga’s smile as he answers: “So do I.”

Oikawa doesn’t have to wait long.

He had strengthened the wards of his shop, a warm, plant-filled room where he makes his charms and gets solicited for various spells the previous night, and doesn’t even bother looking up from his potion when Iwaizumi walks in. Keeps his eyes firmly planted on the herbs he’s chopping until the Siren stands at his counter, eyes scanning the dark shop. 

“Come to convince me, Iwa-chan?” Iwazumi sends him a glare, picking up one of the heavier crystals on Oikawa’s shelf.

“I came to hang out, actually. I was bored and realized there’s no better activity to do than bother you.” He grins at Oikawa, a boyish, amused flash of teeth that leaves Tooru feeling a little silly.

Oikawa pouts, crossing his arms. “Iwa-chan, you’re such a bully! To think I saved you from certain death.” He snorts.

“More like saving me from getting a massive healer bill. Though I should probably be thanking you, now that I think about it.”

“Well, as compensation for my services, Iwa-chan, it’d be lovely if you chopped that boka root for me.” Iwaizumi moves behind the counter with little more than a grunt, picking up a knife and slouching into a chair besides Oikawa.

He fits in here, Oikawa realizes after a minute. All browns and tans and greens blending neatly into the browns and tans and greens of Tooru’s shop. He has to forcefully stop himself from staring as Iwaizumi bends over the roots with a smile, the graceful curve of his neck illuminated by the skylight above the pair.

“You done?” Iwaizumi asks him, meeting his gaze amusedly. Oikawa can feel the blush skate across the back of his neck. 

“I was scrutinizing your form, Iwa-chan. Don’t flatter yourself,” Tooru coughs, leaning to pull a bowl out of the cabinet, “you should make the pieces smaller.”

There is something knowing behind Iwaizumi’s eyes as he continues to slice the herb, and Oikawa can feel his tattoo react briefly.

“What’s the deal with this thing, anyways, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks, probing the green-brown mark. The Siren’s eyes trace the tattoo on Oikawa’s skin before he rolls up his own sleeve. “Not even Suga could figure it out.”

“It’s a soul-siren tattoo.”  
“I’m aware of that. But what is it?” Iwaizumi frowns at him, rubbing the back of his neck. Oikawa is mildly delighted to find that his neck stains purple because of the juice on his hand. 

“I needed something to tether me,” he explains, “otherwise I could’ve died. I don’t know if you could tell, but Ushijima branded intent into the poker, and I knew if I didn’t make a tattoo I would’ve passed out, and it would’ve been much worse.” 

“Is that how soul-sirens work? To tether?” 

“In this case, it was what I needed. I also branded intend into it, to make the mark stronger.” 

“Could you get rid of it?”

“Do you want me too?” Oikawa meets Iwaizumi’s magnificent gaze. He can practically see the answer in the Siren’s eyes. The bond between them tightens. 

“Not necessarily, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa responds loftily. Through the mark he feels a bit of relief. “I think it’s pretty. Did you make the design, or?” 

Iwaizumi chuckles, struggling with a tough chunk of root. “No. Typically soul-sirens reflect the combination of the two who make the bond. So this is half me and half you.”

Tooru gazes down at his- no,  _ their _ tattoo. They’re mostly the same, Oikawa notices, though his is notably brown around the edges, and-

“Yours is a moon,” he realizes, reaching out to gently trace the brilliant half-moon shape on the Sirens arm. He can hear Iwaizumi suck in a breath as Tooru presses his hand against the warm skin of his bicep.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, sounding almost strangled, “mine reflects your soul, and yours reflects mine. But the color is almost always the same.”

“That’s why they’re called soul-sirens, right?” Oikawa’s hand is still on Iwaizumi’s arm, though he doesn’t seem to mind, continuing to slice the root with a gentle twist of his lips.

“Basically. There’s a more accurate description of them that you could find, but that covers the essentials.”

“And can you also feel what I do, Iwa-chan?” Iwaizumi turns to meet his gaze, and Oikawa reluctantly lets his hand fall away.

Iwaizumi’s eyes are searching as they catch Tooru’s. “No. Can you feel what I feel?” 

Oikawa can feel his jaw slack, shock flaring across his features. Iwaizumi’s face is pale, he notes, as he rubs his tattoo. 

“Yes,” he breathes, “you feel nothing?” Iwaizumi’s eyebrows furrow, and Oikawa, in the back of his mind, has to resist the urge to smooth the wrinkles on the Siren’s face.

“I feel…” he paused, glancing around the shop, anywhere but Oikawa’s eyes, “ _ something _ . There is a connection, a bond, but I don’t feel what you do.”

It is then that Oikawa knows. They are soul bonded, most likely, and Iwaizumi doesn’t know. He might not even know what a soul bond is; it wouldn’t surprise Oikawa if he didn’t. It’s a mage thing, after all.

“You know something.” Iwaizumi says. Oikawa doesn’t respond, pushing his chair back with a screech on the wooden floors, starting to teleport. He doesn’t get far. 

Iwaizumi’s hand clamps around his wrist like a brand, and Tooru can feel his powers rear up at Iwaizumi's sheer presence. 

The Siren’s gaze is pleading when Oikawa glares at him.

“Please, Oikawa. I just want to know what this is. It is different from anything I’ve ever experienced.” Oikawa’s whole body feels like combusing at the warm touch, Iwaizumi’s searing gaze. 

It’s then that Oikawa makes his decision.

“I’ll help you, Iwaizumi Hajime,” he breathes, and Iwaizumi’s hand goes slack, “I’ll help you kill Ushijima.” And the pain that sears across his tattooed arm has him falling to the floor. 

Iwaizumi catches him before he can split his skull open on the wooden floors, muttering a quiet, “what the  _ fuck?” _ At the smooth lines that are spreading across Oikawa’s arm. 

_ Oh no. _ Tooru thinks, openly gaping at the new, delicate light blue streaks. It, too, is gorgeous, effortly melding through the soul-siren on his arm. It makes a solar system, brilliant stars and planets surrounding the green sun, he realizes with a gasp. But why…?

Iwaizumi’s gaze meets his own, stunned, and Oikawa grasps his arm, pulling up the fabric of his shirt.

“Oh, no no no no noooo,” Oikawa says, horrified, staring at the matching tattoo that colors the Sirens arm. The tattoo is searing, and, when he flattens his hand against Iwaizumi’s arm, Oikawa can feel his pain like it was Tooru’s own. He looks up into Iwaizumi’s eyes, reeling back at the shock in the Siren’s gaze. 

“How…?” Iwaizumi murmurs, eyes scanning Oikawa’s face. He looks terrified, and there are tears streaming down his tan face, Oikawa notices with a start. “How the  _ hell _ , Oikawa Tooru, did you just make a soul-siren bond?”

Iwaizumi’s hand is still cradling the back of his head, and Oikawa is glad for the warm touch, because he feels like he’s about to pass out. He, for the first time in a long time, is speechless.

Blearily, Oikawa reaches up and swipes the tears streaming down the Siren’s face. Iwaizumi’s face shifts into something between elation and pain as he leans into Tooru’s touch. 

“Stop it,” Iwaizumi says, voice breaking, “I shouldn’t be feeling like this.” And there it is. Oikawa knows, then.

“You can feel what I feel, too. We’re both connected, now,” he pulls away from Iwaizumi, groaning into his hands. “The bargain. I- I created the other half by agreeing to kill Ushijima.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you created a soul-siren bond.” 

“I didn’t. I just strengthened the one we already had. Added my own intent into it.” Oikawa rises quickly, pulling out of Iwaizumi’s grasp. “I need to call Akaashi. You can make yourself at home.” 

He ignores the panicked, “Oikawa, wait!” as he practically sprints out his shop, bursting into a run as he reaches the woods that surround his house, breath stinging in his throat. 

_ You just left your soulbonded lying on the floor of your house, Tooru. After you made him cry,  _ a voice that sounds like Suga’s chastises him,  _ and he doesn’t even know why. _

Oikawa forces the voice out of his head, forces his uncooperative magic to still in his veins, and forces his phone to appear in his hands. There are now tears in his eyes, slipping down his cheeks, he realizes, but they’re not his. Something like guilt eats away at his gut as he types in Akaashi’s number.

“Hello, Oikawa-san.” The mage’s calm voice greets him through the phone. “I knew you would call eventually.”

“Suga told you?” He asks, furiously swiping at the tears running down his face. He can practically picture Akaashi’s amused expression as he chuckles.

“Information always reaches me somehow. I’m assuming this is about Iwaizumi-san?”

“How did you know you were bonded to Bokuto, Kei-chan?” That seems to catch the mage off guard. He hums thoughtfully.

“The first time he contracted me for magic, he was happy,” Akaashi explains, “the second time, he was not. I realized, overtime, that whatever mood he arrived with, I, too was in. And whatever mood he left in I was in as well.”

“That was all?”

“I’ve been trained extensively in bonds, Oikawa-san. There were other signs that I was bonded to Koutarou, of course, but that was the most obvious.” Oikawa sinks against a nearby tree with a sigh. His tears have subsided, but they’re replaced by a fierce sense of urgency running through his veins that is distinctly Iwaizumi’s. 

“And the signs aren’t different because you’re soulbonded to a Siren?” He asks.

“Sirens may be innate freaks of nature, Oikawa-san, but they still adhere to the laws of magic.” 

Oikawa can hear Bokuto yelling something in the background, and Akaashi sounds almost fond when he says, “I’d say you already know the answer to the question you want to ask, Tooru.”

“So I’m bonded to Iwaizumi?” 

“In more ways than one, I’d say. Odd ways, considering the immense power you two have. But yes, you are soulbonded.”

Behind him, Oikawa can hear heavy footfalls break through the silence of the surrounding woods. He only has moments before Iwaizumi is standing in front of him, demanding answers. 

“And you know this how.”

“I told you. All information finds me somehow.” The footsteps grow closer. “All will be well in the end, Tooru. Good luck.” The line goes dead, and Oikawa rises on unsteady knees, gathering his magic. He turns, fully expecting to be greeted with teal tattoos and tan skin, but-

“Daichi!” He practically sobs, throwing himself at the other witch. Daichi catches him, holding him tightly, and the guilt within his gut subsides. 

“Koushi felt the wards split,” he says, pulling back to look Oikawa in the eyes, “he’s talking to Iwaizumi right now. Are you okay?” 

Oikawa hesitates, frowning softly.  _ He  _ is fine. But Iwaizumi?

“I’m fine. I just didn’t want to see him yet.”

“And you talked to Akaashi?”

“Yes,” he responds with a sigh, “I’m soulbonded to Iwaizumi. Officially. And I ran away from him.” The guilt returns in full force.

Daichi has something like a grimace on his face. “Iwaizumi doesn’t know what a soulbond is, Oikawa.” Oikawa feels his face fall. But, well, he figured as much. “He demanded to know what had happened between you two as soon as we crossed the wards.”

“And did Suga tell him?” 

“No,” something like relief fills his veins, “Koushi said he would leave that up to you. Are you going to tell him?”

Tooru doesn’t have to think long before he answers, “Not yet. I just promised him I’d help him kill Ushijima, so I’m not going to tell him until the contract is up.” Daichi eyes the tattoo on his arm with something like distaste. “Do you think that’s the wrong choice?”

“I’d hate for him to find out from someone other than you. What if he hears about Akaashi and Bokuto and asks one of them?”

Oikawa snorts as they begin to walk back, nerves humming in his stomach. “Those two are many things, but I’ve never known them to be snitches. Kei-chan will take my secret to the grave, if I ask him to.”

“Hmm. If you say so, Oikawa. How did you know so quickly?” Daichi asks as the shop comes into view. Oikawa winces as he sees the Siren in his living room.

“The first bond opened the soulbond for me. Imagine a one way tunnel. I could feel his emotions and assumed it was because he had connected us via the soul-siren, but when Iwaizumi said he wasn’t feeling my emotions I knew it wasn’t. The second bond made it like a two-way tunnel, I think. I can feel what he feels, and now he can feel what I do.

“He’ll probably suspect something is off because of the new emotional connection. After all, he’s made soul-sirens before, and knows what they feel like.”

“And if he asks why it’s different?” Oikawa meets Daichi’s eyes with a level glare, reaching for his doorknob.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He says, opening the door. 

Immediately, two sets of eyes shoot to him. Suga, looking concerned, and Iwaizumi, looking part furious and part desperately relieved. Oikawa is half tempted to teleport away at the strange look behind the Sirens gaze, but Iwaizumi doesn’t look like he wants to immediately strangle Oikawa, which he takes as a win.

Daichi nudges him forward, clearing his throat and Suga, bless him, instantly walks over, pulling Oikawa into a hug. Daichi murmurs something to Iwaizumi, and he, with a final, lingering glance at Oikawa, follows the witch out of the room.

“Is it official?” Suga mutters, so quiet that Oikawa can barely hear it.

“Yes. Akaashi confirmed it a few minutes ago.” Suga’s arms tighten around Tooru, the warm scent of rain enveloping him. 

“He’s a good man, Tooru,” Suga hums, “Is it really that bad?” Oikawa can hear Iwaizumi’s laugh from the kitchen, unusually bright, and his heart tightens. At his silence, Suga pulls away, eyes scanning Oikawa’s face, brows furrowed.

“No,” Tooru finally decides, “but it’s too soon to tell him. I haven’t even known him for a week.”

“If he was a witch or mage, Tooru,” Suga tells him, eyes bright, “he would already know. Just remember that. You have the luxury of this being one-sided knowledge because he is a Siren. Don’t hold that over his head.” Guilt eats away at his stomach and Tooru can’t help the wet chuckle that escapes his mouth as Iwaizumi sticks his head around the corner, eyes narrowed. Ah yes, feeling sharing. That’s a thing Tooru has to deal with now.

Daichi’s annoyed grumble of “get back here,” has both Oikawa and Suga laughing, Tooru clinging onto the mage’s shoulder. When he straightens, Suga gives him a soft look.

“You are kind, Tooru. Regardless of what has been done to you. You know what is right.” 

Oikawa hums softly, annoyed look on his face. “You and Aka-chan should hang out more often, so you can be morally responsible together.” Suga’s laugh is bright. Oikawa pauses for a minute, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I just don’t want to make things weird, especially now that I have to help him kill Ushiwaka.”

Suga rolls his eyes. “You’re not asking Iwaizumi-san to marry you, Tooru,” he begins to push Oikawa into the kitchen. “Listen. I’m not going to make you do anything, and I’m sure as hell not going to tell him. But I think you should tell him.”

Tooru can feel the nerves pool in the bottom of his stomach, but he reluctantly lets Suga pull him into the kitchen. Where Iwaizumi is waiting. 

He swallows, and Iwaizumi, whose eyes have trailed Oikawa since he entered the room, follows the movement with his gaze. Tooru sits in the chair across from the Siren, shifting as Suga and Daichi leave the room. 

Across the table Iwaizumi narrows his eyes at him, gingerly rubbing the tattoo.

Oikawa forces a smile on his face, but he knows it’s crumbling softly at the edges. Iwaizumi frowns. “Hi, Iwa-chan. I guess I have some explaining to do.”

“I think I know what’s going on.” Well. Oikawa wasn’t expecting that. 

“Oh?” He says, leaning back into his chair. “I can guarantee that you don’t, Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi smiles at him, but it’s slightly mocking.

“I’ve been around the block a few times, Oikawa. I know what a normal soul-siren bond should feel like. And this doesn’t feel like one.”

“That’s because it isn’t. Well, there is, technically, but there’s another bond there. A different one.”

“What is it,” Iwaizumi growls, crossing his arms across his chest. Tooru rubs his palms together, shifting nervously. The Siren across from him scowls at the tattoo on his arm, before directing his scowl at Oikawa. “What. Is. It.”

Tooru sighs before explaining, “Some people are matched to each other from birth, Iwa-chan. Whether it be in power, or personality, or whatever magic is behind it, I don’t really know.” Iwaizumi is staring at him now, mouth agape. Oikawa forces his eyes away from the Siren. “We’re soulbonded, Iwa-chan. But it’s so, so rare for a Siren to be soulbonded to anyone, and I guess I didn’t want you to be disappointed when you found out you were soulbonded to me.” He says bitterly. Contempt washes over Oikawa, and he can hear Suga’s sharp intake of breath from the other room before silence washes over them.

Oikawa spares a glance at Iwaizumi, face burning. The Siren is glaring at him, eyes alight with something akin to fury. Tooru scrambles back in his seat as Iwaizumi rises, eyes never leaving Oikawa’s face. 

He stalks around the table, ignoring Oikawa’s spluttering until he stands above the witch, grabbing the arms of Oikawa’s chair so hard that he fears they might split. His breath is hot against Tooru’s skin as he leans forward, one hand pulling with a surprising gentleness at Oikawa’s chin. Their eyes meet. 

“I am not Ushijima, Oikawa,” he growls. There is a sharp stab of anger that pulses through his mark, followed by something unrecognisable. “I am not here to use you for your power, then throw you away. Even if you weren’t as powerful as me, which you are, I wouldn’t give a shit. You’re my  _ soulbonded _ , Oikawa. That has to mean something.” A hint of that  _ something _ passes across Iwaizumi’s face, under his skin. 

“You knew,” Oikawa breathes. Iwaizumi’s hand is still holding Oikawa’s chin, and he grabs the Sirens hand, holding it loosely. Iwaizumi looks at their intertwined hands for a second before nodding.

“I had my suspicions. But, like you said, it’s rare for a Siren to soulbonded. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”  _ Didn’t want to get my hopes up _ . A hint of longing passes through Oikawa’s gut before he can tamper it down. Iwaizumi gives him that same softly knowing look as before.

“You really don’t mind?”

“Of course not. I don’t give a damn about power, and as long as you’re willing to give whatever this is a shot, so am I.”

“And our deal?” 

“I truly didn’t know you were my soulbonded when I asked you to help me the first time. I just needed someone who could help me. And you can. In more ways than one, I think.” Oikawa is sure his face is undoubtedly and unfathomably fond when he gazes at the Siren. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you in the first place, Iwa-chan. And for running away.”

Iwaizumi’s face softens, and he gently traces a shape into Oikawa’s palm. A sun, he realizes with a smile. “It’s fine, really. I’m sorry you were worried about all the power bullshit.”

“What now?” Tooru asks. Their hands are still twined, and Suga’s eyes shoot to them when he enters. Iwaizumi’s thumb brushes against one of his knuckles. 

“Now,” he murmurs, eyes softly sad, “we try to kill Ushijima.”

_ The room is dark when Hajime enters, the only light coming from the lit fireplace on the wall. The walls are paneled with dark wood, and the wooden furniture, stained black, is clustered in the middle of the room. Where two men are already sitting.  _

_ They rise when Hajime approaches, eyes scanning him for any sign of weapons. Iwaizumi raises his hands above his head with a frown. _

_“I’m not here to kill you.”_ Yet _, that is. Both the men seem to be aware of this, eyeing Iwaizumi with sharp gazes._ _  
_ _“And yet you agreed to come here.” A deep voice grumbles from across the room. Hajime lets his arms fall, straightening the lapels of his jacket._

_ “I was under the impression that I came here to talk.” Ushijima meets Iwaizumi’s eyes with a blank look. Tendou, from where he skulks against the wall, chuckles, eyes wide. _

_ “We both know you have some ulterior motive, Iwaizumi-san.” The Siren says, gesturing for Iwaizumi to sit. He does, glaring at Tendou from where he remains against the wall.  _

_ “I just want to talk. Hinata is under the impression that you hope to kill me. As well as, well, every other Siren.” Ushijima looks annoyed at the words.  _

_ “Dear Shoyo should learn to keep his head out of our business, Hajime.” Tendou chimes. “Otherwise he might get false information.” _

_ “Interesting that you should say that, Tendou. Atsumu also agrees with Hinata. And, in my experience, he is very rarely wrong about these things.”  _

_ Ushijima scowls at him, folding his hands in his lap. “You’ve talked to the others?” _

_ “They’ve talked to me, actually. I had no idea that you had hurt Hinata’s mage until he came to me.” _

_ “Hinata Shoyo initiated a blood feud with me. Miya Atsumu allied himself with Hinata Shoyo. They are now my enemies, regardless of whatever you came to tell me today.” _

_ “Hinata,” Iwaizumi growls, leaning forward, “challenged you because you were stealing power from powerful mages, including his own. Which goes against the Siren’s Code.”  _

_ Ushijima straightens with a sigh. “I don’t want to argue with you, Iwaizumi-san. I am sure that if you listened to why I am doing this, you would ally yourself with the Shiratorizawa faction.” Tendou, in the corner of Iwaizumi’s eye, stalks to the fireplace. At Hajime’s silence, the Siren continues. “You are a powerful magician, Iwaizumi-san, and while I’m sure I could beat you in a fair fight, I would prefer not to.” _

_ Iwaizumi snorts, rising. He meets the other Siren’s gaze evenly, scowling at him. “Go to hell, Ushijima.”  _

_ And his vision goes black. _

“Iwa-chan. Iwa-chaannnn. Iwaizumi. Hajime.” The Siren doesn’t stir at Oikawa incessant murmuring. Tooru, scowling, gently pulls the spellbook from under him before he picks him up. Iwaizumi is surprisingly heavy, Oikawa notes, as he carries him to his bed. 

It has been weeks since the day of The Confession, as Suga had taken to calling it, and, well, things have been moving at frankly glacial pace. Oikawa had been expecting Iwaizumi to immediately challenge Ushijima, kill him, and then potentially elope with Oikawa (he hadn’t exactly worked out the details), but it seems the task as a whole is going to take much longer than expected. 

“Why can’t you just fight him, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa had asked on the first night, burying his toes under Iwaizumi’s thighs. The Siren had given him a glare before returning to the spellbook in front of him. 

“It doesn’t work like that. I’m not strong enough to beat Ushijima in a direct challenge, and there are magical guidelines I have to follow to ensure I’m not prosecuted afterwards.” Oikawa had frowned at him.

“Doesn’t Shrimpy already have a blood feud with Ushijima? Can’t you just ally with him and fight Usjiwaka together?” 

“I could, and I plan to, but the Shiratorizowa faction as a whole is still dangerous to even try to infiltrate, much less directly attack.” He had given Tooru a sharp look. “We’ll have to find another way.”

Well. They’ve been looking for nearly a month, Oikawa reflects, the Siren dead weight in his arms. And Iwaizumi had only come close to something once. But-

“I won’t make you do it, Oikawa,” he had said, dark eyes meeting Tooru’s.

And that was that. 

But Oikawa is content. Happy to have the Siren, his soulbonded, by his side. He’ll wait it out for however long he needs to.

Iwaizumi, in his arms, stirs, arms coming to rest around Oikawa’s neck. He gives the Siren an amused look as his eyes flutter open.

“You fell asleep on me again, Iwa-chan,” he hums, “I was all alone. It was very sad.”

Iwaizumi seems to humor him, one hand carding through Tooru’s gentle curls. “I’m sure you were. If only you hadn’t kept me awake last night with your drunken self.” 

Oikawa grins down at the Siren, taking in the soft look Iwaizumi gives him. He looks undoubtedly fond, Tooru thinks, as he suddenly realizes the lack of space between them. A lump forms in his throat as Iwaizumi presses his fingers against the splatter of freckles on his check.

“You’ve got a heartbreaker’s smile,” Iwaizumi says, thumb resting on Tooru’s cheekbone. 

Oikawa lets out an indignant grumble. “What does that mean?” He shoves open the door with his foot.

Iwaizumi hums, softly contemplative. “I feel like you’re gonna break up with me.”

“We’re not even dating, dummy.” Oikawa murmurs, butterflies filling his stomach.

“I know. Still. I feel like you’re going to run away with a girl, or something.” Now that has Oikawa really laughing. Iwaizumi frowns at him. “What?”

“Two things,” he says, setting the Siren down, “First, I wouldn’t run away with a woman, because I’m gay, so, if anything, I’d run away with a man. And second,” he brings his hand up to card through Iwaizumi’s hair, reveling in the blush that skates across his nose, “I’m not leaving you to kill Ushijima by yourself, so you can forget about that, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi looks almost starstruck as Oikawa straightens. He turns to leave the room, warmth in the bottom of his stomach.

“I never did thank you for agreeing to help me.” Iwaizumi’s voice cuts through the silence. When Oikawa turns, Iwaizumi has risen, and is walking on steady steps towards him. He pauses only a few inches from Tooru.

“Oh?” Oikawa murmurs, because what else is he supposed to say?

He puts a calloused hand on the place where Oikawa’s neck meets his shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. And, really, Oikawa has been waiting for this moment; weeks of build up for this, weeks of that soft longing at the pit of his stomach. 

Iwaizumi leans forward, breath warm on Oikawa’s cheek, and, ever so gently, presses a kiss against the corner of Oikawa’s mouth. Tooru finds himself leaning into the touch, one hand coming to rest on the Siren’s hip. Iwaizumi pulls away, dark eyes meeting Tooru’s. There’s a quiet heat behind the Siren’s gaze, a hint of want that skirts along the lines of his tattoo.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, suddenly shy, before he turns and walks away, Iwaizumi's warm gaze following him out of the room.

Tooru walks to the balcony in his room, throws open the doors, and screams.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> okay so here's the deal. i'm not sure if I want to continue this so if you like it please tell me  
> also shit I have two fics with the bright in the name. damn  
> any feedback is appreciated!!  
> thanks for reading


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